It is amazing that, even over four decades after his death, jazz pianist Bill Evans can still be influencing the genre.
It is no surprise he does so when people who are not familiar with his work either stumble upon an album he recorded with Miles Davis or find one of the sessions he led. That’s how I discovered him so many years ago. But when archival recordings are discovered that haven’t been heard since they were first recorded and they have the power to shape the scene—well, that, my friends, is talent.
Such is the case with Bill Evans In Norway: The Kongsberg Concert. Recorded in June of 1970, it wordlessly features Evans, bassist Eddie Gomez and drummer Marty Morell tear through 13 standards (including a composition or two of Evans’ own) and keep the audience hanging on to every note. It is one of the best live jazz recordings I’ve ever heard.
When Evans can create such a mood on a song like “Emily” that it sounds like the piano is actually singing along, and the listener can put words to the tune (even if they’re not 100 percent right) —there’s no greater power I’ve heard in all my years of not only reviewing, but listening to music. It sounds and feels like Evans was pouring his entire life into these songs—and, knowing he had been weaning himself off heroin through methadone treatments, it’s entirely possible he was.
From jazz standards like “What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life?”, “So What” and “Nardis” to originals like “34 Skidoo” and “Turn Out The Stars,” Evans and his band create a sound that was to be celebrated, one that showed just how powerful and beautiful the genre of jazz can be. (He even pays tribute to his late bandmate Scott LaFaro on “Gloria’s Step” —though it should be noted that Gomez more than adequately stepped into LaFaro’s shoes after his tragic death.)
The key word to describe these performances is “control.” Evans had the skill to take his music into strange directions with unconventional chord progressions. However, he and the band meticulously attack these songs—and while Evans is still able to put his own signature on them, he is respectful of the source material and lovingly treats the performances as if these would be the final time he ever played them. The respect behind the performances is reflected in the audience’s warm reception to them—and the listener will undoubtedly feel the same way.
If there is any verbal communication between Evans and the audience (or vice versa), I honestly missed it. However, Evans proves throughout the length of this show that words are not always needed to convey messages to someone. The music speaks volumes through the ebbs and flows of the arrangements; the audience similarly communicates with its warm acceptance and applause. It truly is something amazing to hear.
Bill Evans In Norway is the kind of album one wishes would go on for far longer than its 79 minutes, but provides enough to satisfy the listener while leaving them wanting more. This, along with New Jazz Conceptions, would be among the first of Evans’ works I’d place in someone’s hands who wanted to learn more about Evans, and one can only hope there are similar treasures like this residing in a vault somewhere, just waiting to be discovered. This is, putting it simply, a must-own disc.
